The Woman's Last Breath
by la12la3
Summary: John has been away from Sherlock since the wedding, but when he comes back from his honeymoon, Sherlock is acting weird. Which is an understatement. While John has been gone, Irene Adler has come back into Sherlock's life. But how long will she be staying in it? I do not own any of the lovely characters from 221b Baker's Street.
1. Chapter 1

John hadn't seen Sherlock since the wedding, which had been four weeks ago. So John was nervous as he climbed the steps up 221b Baker's Street. He paused at the door to the flat, not sure what he was going to find on the other side. Drugs, mass experiments, and corpses were just a few thoughts that haunted him before he was able to shake them off. He shouldn't be so worried, Lestrade had promised to keep Sherlock extra busy and to watch out for him while John was gone. Even so, John was still apprehensive as he knocked on the door.

At first no one answered, but within a few minutes the door was swung open to reveal Sherlock, shirtless, in his pajama pants. His hair was a mess, he had obviously just woken up. The thing that really worried John was how anxious Sherlock had looked when he had seen that it was John.

"Oh um, hello John. Back from your sex holiday already?" Sherlock asked as he awkwardly opened the door to allow John inside.

_No, that can't be right. _John thought, _Sherlock is never awkward._  
"My what? Oh.. right. It was um nice." John glanced around as he entered the flat, "So what have you been up to Sherlock?" he asked.

"Cases, experiments, the usual." Sherlock answered offhanded as he made his way to the kitchen to make some tea.

"Hm," John replied at Sherlock's vagueness.

Something was definitely up; Sherlock Holmes loved the sound of his own voice. John found it unnerving that Sherlock didn't elaborate on any cases that he had solved or experiments he had done.

However, John put his thoughts aside as Sherlock came trotting back into the living room and handed John a cup of tea as Sherlock took his own cup and sat down in his chair.

"So any interesting cases?" John asked as he sat down in his old chair.

"Not particularly, it's been ghastly the past two days. Absolutely nothing extraordinary is happening in all of London. Not even a bloody suicide." Sherlock replied as he took a sip of his tea.

John was about to reply before he was interrupted by the sound of broken glass and a woman's scream.

_No it can't be,_ John thought_, it had sounded like the scream had come from Sherlock's bedroom._

No sooner had the scream sounded that Sherlock was up on his feet, "Irene," he whispered in horror as he took off down the hallway.

John quickly followed Sherlock in confusion. "Irene? Irene Adler?" John shouted as he ran down the hall.

However, anything he was planning on saying was immediately forgotten as he took in the sight in Sherlock's bedroom. The window was shattered and Sherlock was on the ground putting pressure on a growing red spot on the night gown of Irene Adler.

"Sher..?" Irene whispered

"I'm right here." Sherlock replied gently, "Stay awake for me." He then turned his attention back to John and said, "John call 999 immediately, we need an ambulance. Also call Mycroft, tell him to meet us at the hospital."

John could only stare as his best friend looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. _But Sherlock never cried, _John thought.

"John!" Sherlock shouted, "Snap out of it and help me save her!"

John immediately whipped out his phone and made the calls; he then turned back and went to kneel by Irene. He first felt for her pulse, slow and only getting slower. Not a good sign. He then gently pushed Sherlock's hands out of the way and looked at the bullet wound.

Irene hissed in pain and Sherlock immediately took her hand and whispered, "It's okay, you're going to be fine." He said as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

John was too surprised to even comprehend the sight of Sherlock showing so much affection, however, he was currently in doctor mode so he didn't look up from the wound as he applied pressure. Irene was losing a lot of blood and John knew her chances of surviving were bleak.

"Sherlock?" Irene asked weakly

"I'm right here. The ambulance is on its way, you're going to be fine." Sherlock replied, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself.

John's heart was breaking for both of them.

"Honey, I don't think I'm going to make it, I love you." Irene replied as she gave the faintest of smiles.

"I love you too." Sherlock replied, tears openly flowing down his face.

John took one hand off the wound to check her pulse before placing both hands back on the wound. However, he was now doing it just for Sherlock's case, because Irene Adler was gone.

**Thanks so much for reading this and I'm sorry for such a cliff hanger ;) I really loved how Irene made Sherlock really feel for the first time. She always evoked a whole new side of Sherlock. Hope you enjoyed it and please leave a review! All comments are welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock was silent as the paramedics arrived and took Irene's lifeless body away. He threw off John's hands as the doctor tried to hold Sherlock back from going into the ambulance, trying to save Sherlock any more pain. However, being the stubborn detective that he was, Sherlock rode in the ambulance to the hospital, leaving John to quickly hail a cab and follow behind.

John couldn't process everything that had just happened. _Why was Irene Adler in Sherlock's flat? In his bedroom?_ John thought.

He also couldn't help but feel a deep misery at seeing his best friend so heart broken. Sherlock didn't let many people in, so John couldn't imagine the detective's sorrow when he lost someone so close.

Sherlock couldn't believe it. She can't be dead, she's The Woman. Sherlock had let her get closer than anyone ever before. The paramedics kept on trying to get her heart beat back, but Sherlock knew it was just for show. Irene Adler, The Woman, _his _woman, was gone.

The paramedics rushed the stretcher out of the ambulance as they arrived at the hospital, causing Irene's lifeless hand to slip out of Sherlock's. They wheeled her straight into surgery, but wouldn't let Sherlock follow.

Sherlock thrashed and tried to get past the two hospital security men. He just wanted to be closer to her, he knew it was illogical and wouldn't help anything, but at that moment he didn't care. His attempt at getting past the guards turned out to be futile as he eventually dropped to the floor, his body shaking with sobs. _How could she be gone?_

When John arrived at the hospital, he saw Sherlock sitting up against the wall closest to the OR. His knees were pulled up and his face was buried in his hands as his body wrecked with sobs. A few nurses were surrounding him, apparently trying to console him into a chair.

John immediately took action and walked over to his best friend, "I'm his best friend, I'll take it from here, thanks," John said to the nurses, who nodded their heads gratefully.

John crouched down next to Sherlock and tentatively wrapped his arm around his best friend. It was at least ten minutes before Sherlock had calmed down enough to speak.

"Have you contacted Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, his voice raw from crying.

"Yes, he should be here soon." John replied, not moving his arm away from Sherlock's shoulder.

Right on time, Mycroft charged into the ER, looking around till he found Sherlock. When his eyes met Sherlock's, Mycroft's face visibly softened and he strode quickly towards them. He stood in front of John and Sherlock for a second, seeming to be considering what to do next, before he surprised John by sliding down to the floor to sit on Sherlock's other side.

"Any word on Ms. Adler's condition?" Mycroft asked.

Mycroft's presence seemed to give Sherlock the strength to pull in together as he replied, "None, but I don't expect there to be much. Her heart stopped for over ten minutes," Sherlock replied, his voice void of any emotion.

Mycroft sighed and Sherlock immediately straightened his shoulders, allowing the doctors arm to fall off of them.

The trio didn't speak for a few minutes until a doctor walked out of the OR and stepped in front of them,  
"Mr. Holmes?" He asked.

Sherlock stood up and replied, "How is she?"

John and Mycroft also stood up to stand besides Sherlock.

The doctor seemed to brace himself before he answered, "I'm sorry Mr. Holmes, but she didn't make it."

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next one is already done, just proof reading. Please do me a favor and review what you think of the story so far, do you like where it is going? Have any questions? Don't hesitate! Thanks guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock starred at the doctor for a few seconds before abruptly turning and walking out of the hospital.

"Sherlock?" John shouted as he ran to catch up, leaving Mycroft behind to deal with any paper work.

Sherlock didn't reply as he kept up his quick pace and rounded the corner outside the hospital.

John finally caught up to him and could tell that Sherlock was close to breaking down. Sherlock's lip quivered and his eyes were glassy, but John knew that Sherlock didn't understand these emotions. They scared him. John knew Sherlock needed to walk it out, that was his way of coping.

So they just walked, for hours. They walked all over London, neither saying a word, neither needing to. Eventually, though John was not sure how, they made it back to 221b Baker's Street around nine at night. However, as soon as they got to the door, Sherlock stopped abruptly.

John sensed his hesitation and said, "You can stay with Mary and I tonight, I'm sure Mary would love to have you."

Sherlock seemed to consider this for a second before turning to John.  
"Thank you," Sherlock said as he turned to hail a cab.

_Sherlock Holmes just thanked me._ John couldn't be more worried.

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The cab ride was silent, only broken when John paid the fare.

"Okay, you can go on into the bathroom and take a shower or just go lay down, whatever suits you. I'll talk to Mary." John said as he unlocked the door.

"John?" Mary asked from the kitchen, but stopped as she saw Sherlock and the state that he was in, disheveled hair and red eyes.  
"Sherlock? Are you alright?" Mary asked in a worried tone.

Sherlock seemed to freeze in a motion that John recognized as trying to keep himself together. If Sherlock spoke now, he would end up crying again.

"Sherlock, why don't you go on and take a shower? I'll make us some tea," John offered.

Sherlock gave a stiff nod as he maneuvered past Mary and into the bathroom down the hall.

John waited till he heard the water start before he turned to Mary.

He sighed, getting ready to explain, when he suddenly broke down. There had been too many emotions that day. He had had to stay strong for Sherlock, but seeing your best friend break down in such a way was horrifying.

Mary immediately wrapped her arms around John. They stayed like this for a few moments before Mary asked, "What happened?"

John took Mary's hand and led them both to the couch. He sat for a second and composed himself before answering, "Irene Adler died today."

Mary looked even more confused and John realized that she didn't know anything about _The Woman_.

"Sorry, let me explain. We had a case with her a few years back; she and Sherlock had an… interesting relationship, if you can call it that. She was supposed to be dead. Of course I suppose that no one really stays dead these days," John said with a humorless laugh, "Still, I don't know how she was still alive, but she was in Sherlock's flat when I went over earlier today. Someone shot her and she didn't make it. I've never seen Sherlock so devastated."

"That poor man," Mary replied sadly, "He never lets anyone in and when he does… it's just tragic."

"I know," John replied, "So is it all right if he stays with us for a little while? I don't trust him to be on his own and he shouldn't have to go back to the place where she died."

"Of course," Mary replied.

John gave Mary a quick kiss before heading into the kitchen to make some tea before Sherlock got out of the shower.

It was going to be a long night.

**:'( Sorry to put you guys on such an emotional roller coaster, but I really love having Sherlock show real emotions for once. Please leave me a review if you get a chance and I will be trying my best to update every Friday! Have a wonderful week everyone!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock stayed in the shower for a long time, just letting the water run over him. He was balled up in the corner of the tub, escaping into his mind palace.

_Why did she have to die?_ Sherlock kept thinking over and over again. Though he wasn't sure what he should call her, girlfriend sounded odd in his mouth, he knew that she had meant a lot to him. Sherlock kept trying to escape into logic, repeating the entire periodic table, going over the order of the solar system that John had forced him to learn; but nothing worked. He was so _emotional_, it was disgusting. He couldn't think straight.

John began to worry after an hour of Sherlock being in the shower, so he went and tentatively knocked on the door,

"Sherlock? Your tea is getting cold," John said, though he was already boiling a fresh pot.

There was no answer.

"Sherlock? Please say something," John said as he started to get anxious.  
_Sherlock wouldn't do anything to himself, would he?_ John thought nervously.

Again, no reply.

"Sherlock, I'm coming in," John said in his military voice. He was prepared to break the door down, but, to his surprise, he found it already unlocked.

John slowly nudged the door opened and went into the steam-filled room. The shower curtain was closed, so John still couldn't see Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" John asked before pulling open the curtain.

A knock on the door disrupted Sherlock's mind palace, however, he still refused to come back to reality. Reality was filled with emotions and instability; he was not going back to that.

John kept trying to coax some words out of Sherlock, no doubt to reassure himself. Sherlock wouldn't,_ couldn't _reply though. Replying would mean coming back out of his mind palace, which would mean experiencing emotions, which would inevitably lead back to the conclusion that Irene Adler was dead. Sherlock was adamant at avoiding this fact at all cost.

The opening of the door alerted Sherlock to John's presence. Sherlock knew he would have to come out soon, have to experience life again, but he wanted just a few more minutes.

Sherlock stayed in his mind palace, locked safely away from the world, even as John pulled open the curtain.

When John opened the curtain, he saw his best friend curled up in the corner of the tub with his hands holding each side of his head. John was unfazed by his friend's nakedness, he was a doctor of course.

"Sherlock? Is there anything I can do?" John asked, not even attempting to ask if he was okay, he was obviously not.

Sherlock didn't reply, he only continued to stare blankly ahead. John recognized this as Sherlock being in his mind palace, Sherlock had hidden inside of himself.

John sighed and closed the curtain before going to sit on top of the toilet lid. He knew Sherlock needed to work this out and would come out eventually and when he did, John would be there for him.

**Sorry for such a short chapter this week, but I promise a longer one next Friday! Thank's so much for all the reviews and I really appreciate them! Please leave a review if you haven't already, they really help me improve my stories or just figure out what you guys like to read! Thanks for reading and the next chapter will be up next Friday! :) **


	5. Chapter 5

John woke to the sound of the shower turning off. It took him a second to get his bearings after he had apparently dozed off waiting for Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" John asked as he heard Sherlock standing up on the other side of the curtain.

He was answered by an expectant arm sticking out of the curtain.

John gave a small sigh and smiled at his best friend's antics as he reached over to hand Sherlock a towel.

A minute later, Sherlock emerged from the shower. His eyes were still red, but his complexion had improved drastically.

"May I borrow a robe?" Sherlock asked, shocking John out of his staring.

"Yes, of course," John replied as he hurried across the hall to grab Sherlock a robe, in Sherlock's size. John had come to start having a small collection of clothes in Sherlock's size for his friends many abrupt stays over the past few months.

"Here you are," John said as he handed Sherlock the robe, "Fancy a cuppa?"

Sherlock, with his towel still hanging around his waist, grabbed the robe and took a second to awkwardly maneuver it on without taking off the towel.

Once in his robe, he turned to John and said, "Fine." Figuring that he would have to answer John's questions eventually and the sooner he did, the less John would probe.

John nodded and headed to the kitchen to find Mary finishing a fresh pot.  
"Here you are," Mary said as she handed out, "How is he?"

"You're a God-send. And he is.. more like himself? I'm not sure how he will cope, because I doubt he will handle this like a normal person, being Sherlock," John said with a small smile.

He gave Mary a quick kiss then went to wait in the living room for Sherlock.

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Sherlock shook out his wet hair with his towel before wiping away the steam from the mirror above the sink. In the mirror, Sherlock took in his red eyes with disgust. He wanted to be mad at himself, but he was growing increasingly furious towards whoever shot Irene. Sherlock had been so caught up in is loss that he hadn't had time to take into account the fact that she was _murdered. _

At once, is anger swelled uncontrollably and the next thing he knew, his fist was smashed into the mirror, shattering it.

Sherlock looked at his hand in shock; he had let his emotions get out of hand. _What is happening to me?_

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John rushed to his feet at the sound of broken glass. He ran down the hallway and threw open the bathroom door.

Inside, Sherlock was standing in his robe in front of the broken mirror. Sherlock was staring at his bloody hand with a look mixed with horror and fascination.

"Sherlock? Why did you break the mirror?" John asked softly.

Sherlock looked up and furrowed his brow as he replied, "I don't know."

John couldn't remember ever hearing his friend say those words before.

"Er, you don't know?" John asked.

Sherlock's face immediately snapped back to its usual look of cold frustration, "Obviously, that is what I just said. I assume you can patch up my hand for me?"

"Of course," John said as he led Sherlock into the living room.  
John figured Sherlock _was _telling the truth when he said he didn't know why he broke the mirror. Sherlock didn't understand emotions from others, much less his own.

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After John had patched up his fingers, Sherlock sipped his tea then began his explanation.

"Obviously, Irene Adler was never dead," John scoffed, but Sherlock ignored him and continued, "I helped her fake her death three years ago in order for her safety to be assured. She would contact me occasionally, however, I never replied; at least, not until I had to be considered dead too. During my two years away, we saw each other on a somewhat regular basis, every few months. She and I had a… relationship or sorts I suppose. I'm not sure what to label her as, so I won't give her a title at all. She had been staying at my flat for a week before you came over this morning."

John took a second to absorb all this information then asked, "So even when you came back, you were still seeing her?"

"Yes."

"How? When? How did I not notice when we moved back into the flat together for the first few months?" John asked, baffled. He couldn't remember Sherlock ever leaving for any significant periods of time.

"We would meet up at different abandoned locations throughout the city. Or, when she got her way, a small movie theater or corner restaurant," Sherlock replied with a small, sad smile.

"She got you to go to the cinema?" John couldn't imagine Sherlock ever suffering through a movie, not for anyone.

"She got me to do a lot of things," Sherlock replied before standing abruptly, "Now, are your questions done? I would like to sleep."

John didn't want to push his friend after the day they had had, so he simply said, "Of course, you know where to go."

John watched as Sherlock took to his usual bedroom before cleaning up the tea cups.

As he got ready to go to bed, he was sure he wouldn't sleep a wink. He was out as soon as his head hit his pillow.

**Thanks for reading! promise that it will start moving a lot faster next week, I just wanted to emphasize the emotions during the first 24 hours after Irene's death. So whatcha think? Please leave a review, I love to hear from you guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock woke up around noon, figuring that John must have let him sleep in. He could hear the chatter of plates in the kitchen and two people moving around; John must have taken the day off work.

Sherlock slowly stretched out his long legs and pulled his arms over his head. He sat up on the side of his bed and steepled his fingers as he thought about how to handle the day ahead. He was determined to delete Irene and the emotion she caused in him.

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John heard Sherlock start to stir around noon and promptly began to put a breakfast together. He doubted Sherlock would eat, but it was worth a shot.

John and Mary milled around the kitchen, John making tea and Mary cooking eggs and toast.

It was about half an hour later when Sherlock came walking into the kitchen. To both John and Mary's surprise, Sherlock was fully dressed in his usual button up and dress pants. He had even fixed his hair to its usual curly perfection.

"Morning John, Mary," Sherlock said casually.

If John hadn't witnessed the previous day's events, he probably wouldn't believe that they had even happened. Sherlock was being so _Sherlock, _a stark contrast to just twelve hours before.

"Good morning, Sherlock," Mary replied with a smile as she set a plate in front of where Sherlock had sat down at the table.

"Here you go, mate," John said as he set a glass of tea beside the plate.

John at least expected a "thank you" like the day before, but Sherlock simply ignored him and took a sip of the tea.

_And he's back,_ John thought.

It took John a second to notice that Mary was trying to subtly hint to talk to John in the hallway. Of course, if it took John a second, it took Sherlock less.

"John, you're wife needs a moment with you," Sherlock stated without looking up from his tea.

John sighed and walked out to meet Mary.

"So what do you think is going on?" Mary asked, whispering.

"No clue, I mean, it's Sherlock, and we can't really expect him to react normally to anything. Still, this seems intense, even for him. Denial, maybe?" John suggested at a loss.

Mary shrugged and stole a concerned glance at Sherlock.

"Just stay by him in case he decides to be a human again," Mary said with a small, sad smile.

"Will do," John said and returned her smile as he leaned in for a quick kiss before heading back into the kitchen.

John and Mary served themselves to their prepared breakfast and each took a seat next to Sherlock.

Everyone sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just eating, before Sherlock stood and collected his plate to the sink.

He washed it silently as John and Mary watched, looking for any sign of distress like the day before. They saw nothing.

Sherlock then walked out of the kitchen and back to his room in silence.

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Sherlock walked back to his room without a word to John and Mary. When he had closed his door, he immediately began to pick up his few belongings from the night before. Once he had put on his coat( flaps up), scarf, and placed his mobile in his pocket, he was off.

"Sherlock? Where are you going?" John called out to him as he passed the kitchen.

Sherlock paused and turned, "Baker's Street."

John looked uncomfortable with him going alone and muttered a "be right there" before he went off to get his coat.

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The cab ride was silent as Sherlock and John made their way back to the flat. This time, Sherlock didn't hesitate as he pulled open the entrance to 221b Baker's Street. John followed Sherlock up the steps tentatively.

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Once in the flat, Sherlock noticed a note and some muffins from Mrs. Hudson on the desk. He could also smell the distinct odor of cleaning products; he figured Mycroft would send someone to clean the flat.

Sherlock went over to his lab (kitchen) table and began to dabble with the experiment that had been on hold since two days before. He was a mixing an acid with some milk when he felt John staring at him.

Annoyed by the break in his concentration, Sherlock looked up expectantly and raised his eyebrows in question.

John coughed and tried to turn around, awkwardly ignoring his previous stare.

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John didn't realize he was staring till Sherlock had gotten annoyed. As he turned, he tried his best to release the tension he had caused.

John walked over to his chair and sunk down with a paper. Once seated, he allowed himself to think about why Sherlock was acting like nothing had happened. It was obviously denial like he'd ever seen. Sherlock was acting like a child.

_Oh, _John thought.

Obviously Sherlock was acting like a child with his emotions; he practically w_as _a child on an emotional level.

John decided to just keep a close eye on his best friend, childlike or not, he was Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock was anything but predictable.

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**Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! As one reviewer suggested, the plot was going a little fast before. This was only because I wanted to show how the first day was a long blur for Sherlock and his emotions just got away from him. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as we are getting into a more "Sherlock" reaction. ** **Let's see if John can get Sherlock to become human again ;) I plan to have another chapter up next Friday. Have a good weekend and please leave a review if you get a chance! **


	7. Chapter 7

Within a week of Irene's death, Sherlock had developed a routine of sorts. Get up, delete a memory, and get through a day. Irene was so entrenched in Sherlock's mind palace that he had to delete memories individually; he couldn't get rid of her in a day. Of course, John knew nothing of Sherlock's plans, he would have disagreed, told Sherlock to treasure the time he had. He wouldn't understand. Irene meant everything to him; it was either delete her or join her.

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John had taken the last week off of work to be with Sherlock. John had been sleeping at Baker Street for two days now, helping Sherlock prepare the funeral. It was, of course, going to be a small affair; considering the fact that she was supposed to already be dead.

John was also insuring that Sherlock didn't go off and run after Irene's killer. Both Mycroft and Lestrade were constantly looking into it and sending Sherlock any data they find, agreeing that Sherlock could start helping after the funeral.  
Sherlock hadn't cried or shown any emotion since the day of Irene's death and John was very worried. He was worried that if Sherlock kept bottling up his emotions, he might let them out when John wasn't there or, even worse, with a syringe. John knew Sherlock had been clean for a few years now, but an emotional setback could tempt a former addict.

The funeral was set for the next day, Friday, and John had stayed up late with Sherlock, wanting to be with him until he fell asleep. Finally, Sherlock had drifted off around 3 am.  
John had been putting their tea cups in the sink when he saw silent tears streaking down Sherlock's face; most likely a nightmare.

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Sherlock looked at Irene in confusion.

"You're dead, stop interrupting my sleep," He said coldly.

Dream Irene simply smiled and gestured to a building that Sherlock didn't remember standing in front of.

"You know where we are?" Dream Irene asked.

The movie theater was old with a cracking facade, but still in business. It was on the outskirts of London and only played old films, so no one would recognize them.

"Of course, the movie theater you would always drag me to. The first movie theater I ever went to," Sherlock replied factually, "Ah, so that is what this is, I'm reminiscing. How sentimental," Sherlock spat the last word in disgust.

Irene just let out a small laugh and wrapped her arm around Sherlock's, dragging him to the box office where she pulled out two tickets, the name blurred. Neither of them spoke again till they were seated in the back row, their row, in the dark theater.

Once seated, Sherlock put his arm around the dream Irene and said, "I know you're not real, just my mind playing tricks on me, a psychopompic dream at best, but I miss you. I miss you and I'm mad that you had to die and I will find who killed you, and put an end to them."

Irene responded by leaning over and kissing his tear-stained cheek whispering, "Don't forget me."

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John debated waking him, not sure if Sherlock would be too embarrassed to be caught in such a state. However, John couldn't leave Sherlock in pain, so he went over and gently nudged Sherlock's shoulders.  
"Sherlock? Wake up, it's just a dream."  
It took a few tries, but Sherlock woke with a small gasp.  
"Sh, you're fine. Everything's ok," John reassured the detective.

His eyes were wide and unfocused for a few seconds as he took in his surroundings and slowed his breathing as he realized it had been a dream... Wait, no. Irene was dead. She HAD died in his arms. As suddenly as he had calmed, Sherlock was sobbing.  
John gently pulled Sherlock onto his shoulder and wrapped his arms around the detective, rubbing slow, calming circles on Sherlock's back.  
"Not fair," Sherlock quietly muttered through his sobs.  
"No Sherlock, it never is," John replied.

"I can't delete her, I should, but I just can't," Sherlock whispered.

John understood. Sherlock had been trying to delete Irene, if he deleted her, then he deleted his sorrow.  
The two sat like that till Sherlock had eventually run out of tears and had begun to fall asleep in John's arms.  
Slowly, trying not to wake him, John lowered Sherlock back into the couch, however, just as John was getting up, he felt a hand anxiously grasp his jumper.  
"Stay, please," Sherlock said quietly, like he was ashamed to ask but couldn't help it.  
John gave a small, sad smile and gently lowered himself back down next to Sherlock, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's torso.  
The two slept soundly together for the first night since Irene's death.

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**Thanks for reading and sorry for being two weeks behind! These past few weeks have been crazy, I went out of town, then I was sick, it was just hectic. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! School starts this week (ugh) so I will do my best to update every Friday, but I apologize in advance if my schedule is sometimes a little off. No worries though, I WILL finish this story. Please leave a review if you get a chance and have a great week!**


	8. Chapter 8

John woke to a loud knock on the door. Groaning, he slowly untangled himself from Sherlock's gawky limbs, stretching his sore neck as he walked to the door.

"Lestrade?" John asked, still confused from sleep.

Lestrade looked at John in alarm and said, "I'm here to pick up you and Sherlock, you're not even ready!"

John was immediately sent into a state of panic as he went to wake the dead-asleep detective.

"Sherlock? You have to get up, we need to get ready very fast," John shouted back as he went up the stairs to his room.

Sherlock looked up blearily and took in Lestrade. Being in an emotional hangover, it took him longer than usual to deduce the situation, but within a few seconds, his eyes widened and he was up and off all the same.

Lestrade shifted impatiently as he waited for the two men. He didn't want to tell Sherlock to hurry up though, figuring he had enough on his plate for the day.

In less than ten minutes, Sherlock and John were in their black suits and following Lestrade to his car.

Without being asked, Lestrade turned on his sirens and together they sped through London.

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Sherlock was silent on the ride to the funeral. John sat next to him the whole time, not saying a word, just comforting Sherlock by being close.

The car slowly came to a stop in front of the small graveyard that Mycroft had arranged for the burial. They figured a full service would be dangerous and irrelevant when only a handful of people would attend.

Lestrade got out first, giving John a knowing look to convey that he was giving them a moment alone.

Once Lestrade had left the car, John turned to Sherlock and said,

"Remember, it's _okay _to feel emotions. If you cry, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Are you ready?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, bracing himself, then turned to John and nodded.

John was turning to open the car door when Sherlock's hand suddenly reached out to stop him. Confused, John turned to look at Sherlock.  
"Thank you," Sherlock said quietly, holding John's stare.

"Always," John said with a small nod.

Together they exited the car and made their way into the small graveyard. Inside the gate, only a few people were present; Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and the preacher.

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The service was brief and to the point, just how Sherlock preferred. He didn't know if Irene had wanted anything specific, they had never talked about it. However, he wasn't one to question the desires of the dead, he wasn't that far gone.

"Now I understand the deceased significant other may like to say a few words," the preacher ended his service, gesturing to Sherlock.

Cursing himself, Sherlock realized that he had dazed out. Was he supposed to say something? What do you say to a decaying body?

John sensed Sherlock's hesitation and leaned over to whisper,  
"Its up to you, mate. Only do it if you want to, but don't regret being silent."

Sherlock gave a stiff nod and slowly walked to the head of the grave, facing all the people that he loved. Surprising himself, Sherlock looked first to Mycroft, only calming when he met his brother's steady gaze. Mycroft nodded and Sherlock began,

"Irene Adler was the only person to ever beat me, if only temporarily. For that she received my utmost respect. She was also there for me during the time that I was otherwise alone and she was a valuable help in my homecoming. Without her, I might have never seen John again. I am grateful to have met her and I did… love her. She was and will always be, the woman. My woman."

Sherlock cleared his throat and tossed his rose on her grave before turning and walking back over to John.

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John was proud of his best friend's speech; it took a lot for Sherlock to allow emotion to show. Sherlock gave a nod and then walked back over to stand next to John.

Seeing his friend's stony face, John discreetly reached over and grabbed Sherlock's hand. Sherlock surprised him by grasping John's fingers tightly, holding onto his anchor.

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**Thanks so much for reading! First off, I'm officially moving all my Sherlock update dates (?) to Saturday instead of Friday. It's just easier to do since school started. Also, I need your help! I can't decide if I want to just put up the epiloge next and focus the story on just Sherlock's emotions or do a separate "part two" focusing on why Irene was killed and Sherlock finding the murderer. What do you think? Please PM or review :) Have a great week!**


	9. Epilogue

Within the weeks following the funeral, Sherlock was able to piece together the crime. The terrorist group that had attempted to execute Irene all those years ago had come back to complete the job. A single sniper was all it took. Sherlock tore apart the entire group with vengeance. He found all the terrorists by either going under-cover or using Mycroft's surveillance cameras. However, Mycroft wouldn't let his little brother bring in the terrorists alone; he had an extensive group of the country's best spies and military officers to protect Sherlock and apprehend the criminals. And of course John was constantly at Sherlock's side, a gun at the ready.

All the while, Sherlock took to telling John all the memories he had shared with Irene. Some nights, it was just a short text Irene had sent him. Other nights, John would hold Sherlock as his friend released all his bent-up sorrow and then listen as Sherlock would describe a date with Irene or really any type of memory he had of her. After the night before the funeral, Sherlock had stopped deleting the memories. Instead, he would tell them to John and cry with his best friend. Sherlock had found that, after crying over the memory, he was able to safely tuck it back into his mind palace. He would still feel the sadness that only time would slowly mend, but at least he could function.

It took a few months, but Sherlock eventually went back to how he was before Irene's death. He was now able to remember her without a sharp pain that took his breath away. He was able to remember her with a smile or, more often, a smirk.

Throughout the years, Sherlock never forgot _The Woman _or how much he loved her. He never "dated" again, but he chose not to because he didn't need anyone else. He still had John and he had experienced everything he could ever ask for when he was with Irene. He was content with his memories. So every Valentine's Day Sherlock would buy a bouquet of roses and place them on Irene's grave. He would feel silly talking to a grave stone, but he needed to make sure Irene knew that he still loved her, that he would never forget. She would always be his woman.

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**Thank you to all those who have stuck with this story from the beginning! I hope you enjoyed the epilogue. I felt that the story was starting to drag and I wanted to end it on a good note. That being said, if you want me to write a separate story on Sherlock's adventures tracking down the terrorists, let me know in a review or PM. You all rock and I hope you continue to read my other stories, your support is extremely appreciated! Have a great day and please review if you have a second :)**


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